Navigation

Well Versed

Raised in the Jamaican countryside on a diet of scriptures and regular church visits, Jepther McClymont, better known as Luciano, evolved into an intensely spiritual reggae singer. Hardly surprising, considering that his father was not only a strict Adventist, but a loving dad who made his son his first guitar...

What happens on the ground matters — Your support makes it possible.

We’re aiming to raise $6,000 by August 10, so we can deepen our reporting on the critical stories unfolding right now: grassroots protests, immigration, politics and more.

Contribute Now

Progress to goal
$6,000
$1,400
Share this:
Carbonatix Pre-Player Loader

Audio By Carbonatix

Raised in the Jamaican countryside on a diet of scriptures and regular church visits, Jepther McClymont, better known as Luciano, evolved into an intensely spiritual reggae singer. Hardly surprising, considering that his father was not only a strict Adventist, but a loving dad who made his son his first guitar from scratch. "I started singing in the church choir when I was about six or seven years old," he says. "My father played the guitar, which fascinated me, so I wanted to learn to play it too."

He became a Rastafarian midway into his musical career, which began in 1992 after moving to Kingston. Brother Bob Marley was one of his biggest inspirations -- Luciano describes him as "a freedom fighter for the people" -- as well as Garnett Silk and Dennis Brown: individuals who also spoke of being revolutionaries.

"I remember when my song, 'One Way Ticket,' took off, and wherever I performed it, people couldn't believe that I was a baldhead," Luciano laughs, recalling his pre-dreadlock days and the song that spoke about returning to Africa. "It became obvious to me that in sticking with the musical traditions, that I too needed to go along with the Nazarene beliefs and allow no razor to go near my head.

"Not many people know this, but I started out with one intention: as a philosopher and a scholar," he continues. "If you're going to be involved in anything, you have to take the time to study it. I've learned a lot from the elders in the music fraternity and they have paved the way for me and others to continue the good work that they started."

Luciano's recordings over the last eleven years have utilized the production skills of singer/songwriter Freddie McGregor and producers Herman Chin-Loy and Phillip "Fattis" Burrell. This year's Serve Jah proves that his key to success is consistency and not straying from his beliefs. His trademark is a pious blend of earthy rhythms tinged with heavy reggae bass lines and poetic lyrics that make the listener stop and think. The usual jargon propagating the need for love, peace, and unity is there too. In fact this self-made prophet has earned the nickname "the Messenger" (often spelled Messenjah), and he calls himself a leader and shepherd to anyone who will listen.

"My mission is for humanity to energize the spirituality in them and to look at life more spiritually," he says. "I think mankind has really lost focus as to what we're supposed to be doing and how we're supposed to be living. The true values have gone, and I realize that as I become more involved in the mission, giving my life unto Jah and my soul to the people and the music, it has really brought out the best in me."

Whether you conclude that Luciano is a Rasta version of an overzealous fundamentalist or simply a man excessively passionate about proclaiming his values, it is hard to deny his fervor. Recently a rumor spread that Luciano fired his female back-up group of seven years, the Daffodils, after one of them came to rehearsals wearing tight, hip-hugging jeans. "Actually it wasn't just about the jeans -- it was their whole mannerisms," says the conscious dread. "I didn't think that they saw what I was trying to achieve. For me as a Rastaman, they needed to comply with my dress code that didn't include X-rated jeans." Luciano, who usually wears khaki green or beige, militant-type garb himself, is now backed by the Jah Messenjah Band. His current back-up girls, the Far East Singers, are similarly clad in colorful African attire. No sexy pants are found in this conglomerate.

Luciano frequently opens his concerts by reciting a psalm or a prayer before transforming the proceedings into a lively, energetic dance party. Adopting the simultaneous roles of entertainer and teacher, he leaps high in the air, runs from one end of the stage to the other, and shakes his dreads wildly. At one point he dismisses his band and performs a solo acoustic piece with his guitar. Everything is rendered with such concentrated sentiment that it looks as if he's meditating right there on the stage.

With his Bible tucked firmly under his belt and the wooden rod that he carries wherever he goes (he claims that God told him in a dream that it would increase his mental strength), Luciano appears to be serious enough to topple anyone who gets in his way. You would never guess this judging from his humble tone and by the charismatic way he greets everyone he meets with a smile, a handshake, and a "blessed love," whether he knows them or not. "I've held firm with truth and righteousness and now I see how it's really paying off," he summarizes. "It's a great achievement to be recognized by my fans after working so hard over the years, and it moves and encourages me to continue."